


Signs of Life

by Grinder1833



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode Tag, Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinder1833/pseuds/Grinder1833
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam cured Dean from being a demon but now he wants to make amends with his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signs of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I don’t own these characters. They are property of “Supernatural," Warner Bros. Television and Kripke Enterprises.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: I wasn't happy with the way "Soul Survivor" ended so I wrote this in order to "fix" things. This work is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Sam gripped the steering wheel of the Impala tightly. Leaving Dean even for a few minutes felt wrong, but he knew he was doing the right thing. Dean needed food, which was something they didn’t have at the bunker. Sam had been surviving on protein bars, Red Bull, and whatever he could get his hands on when he was forced to stop for gas during the search for his brother. 

_Dean’s okay…Dean’s okay,_ Sam kept silently repeating, needing to reassure himself that his brother was actually _his brother_ again. He wanted to believe that Dean was really cured. It almost didn’t seem like it could be possible. Just a couple of hours ago Dean had been chasing him through the bunker with a hammer, teasing and taunting him— _hunting_ him. 

The thought made Sam shiver—Dean wanting to kill him. He might have succeeded if Cas hadn’t arrived just in time. Sam tried not to think about the things Dean had said to him while Sam worked on curing him. Demons lie. They’re cruel, cunning, and evil. And Dean knew exactly how to hit him where it would hurt the most.

But it hadn’t worked. Sam saved him. _Dean is going to be okay. We’ll rest, regroup, and figure out where to go from here,_ Sam decided. 

Sam hated leaving Dean, but Dean had been barely conscious when Cas and he had gotten him into his room. Cas had said that Dean would probably be out of it for awhile. Sam had been high on adrenaline so he figured that he could make a quick run to the nearest diner to get Dean some comfort food, which was piled next to him on the front seat amongst old wrappers, empty bottles, and the used napkins that littered the Impala.

Sam still couldn’t believe the state she was in. This was Dean’s baby. Sam lost count of the times Dean had chastised him for dropping so much as a crumb inside the car. Right now the Impala looked like the town dump. And it smelled— _fuck_ —the stench was a mixture of body odor, smoke, alcohol, rotten food, and sex. The last scent was the one that turned Sam’s stomach. 

For the past six weeks Dean has been out there fucking God knows who or what. Not that Sam had room to judge the “what.” It didn’t matter that he and Dean haven’t had sex since before Sam tackled the last trial. It’s not that Sam hadn’t tried—oh he tried after he was back on his feet after abandoning the final trial, but Dean kept putting him off. He’d tell Sam they needed to wait until Sam was 100% again. Turns out the real reason Dean was reluctant to resume their physical relationship was that Sam was being possessed by an angel. Couldn’t have the angels knowing about their incestuous relationship, which was comical since Gadreel had been privy to all of Sam’s thoughts.

But Sam forgave Dean for the drastic measures he’d taken to save Sam’s life. Holding your dying brother in your arms was a hell of a way to let bygones be bygones. Sam regretted the jabs he took at Dean that cut his brother to the core. He wanted to make Dean hurt for a while. Now all he wanted to do was hug Dean and tell him that he loved him which might make Dean wonder if Sam was possessed or had sold his soul. They rarely used the L word with each other. “Bitch” and “Jerk” were their terms of endearment.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Sam murmured, running his hand along the dashboard. “Dean didn’t mean it when he said you were just a car. He hasn’t exactly been himself lately, but he’s back. He’ll take care of you again.” Talking to the Impala gave him comfort, even if he felt a little silly having a conversation with a car. He’d done it a couple of times before. The first was after he’d buried Dean in Illinois and the other was when Dean had disappeared after killing Dick Roman. Talking to Baby had helped keep him relatively sane.

Sam decided he would try to clean up the Impala so Dean wouldn’t have to see his baby in such a state of neglect. Maybe Dean wouldn’t remember his time as a demon. For his brother’s sake, Sam prayed that he wouldn’t, because the last thing Dean needed was another reason to hate himself. Dean’s list was long enough as it was.

Cas’s car was still parked in front of the bunker when Sam pulled up. He could make out a shadowy figure in the front seat which looked a lot like Hannah. The polite thing to do would be invite her in, but Sam couldn’t give two shits about social graces. He wanted to get to Dean, feed him, and make sure he was really okay. 

Sam pulled the Impala into the garage and carefully gathered the bags of food and alcohol (he wasn't kidding when he said that he wanted to get drunk) and headed inside, which was quite the trick with his arm in a sling. He found Cas sitting in the library, thumbing through a book. 

“Hey.” Sam set the bags on the table. “Has there been any change? Is he okay?” He pulled the six-pack of beer out of one bag, deciding that the hard stuff should be saved for later because they’d probably need it.

“Dean is as well as can be expected, considering what he’s been through,” Cas replied. 

Sam blew out the breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Good…that’s good.” He nervously brushed his fingers through his hair. “I should probably get this to him while it’s still warm.” He picked up the food and beer. Cas's voice stopped him just as he was turning to leave the room. 

“Sam, you’re brother—he’s-”

Sam froze and his body tensed. “He’s what? You said that he was okay.”

“Physically, yes he’s fine.”

“But—” Sam’s life has been filled with “buts” so this one shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“I think he’s concerned that you might want to part ways after his attempt to kill you.” 

“So he remembers?” Sam’s stomach twisted into such perfect, secure knots that would make his father proud. 

“It appears so.” Cas closed the book he’d been studying. “I reminded him that you two are brothers.”

“Which hasn’t meant jack shit lately.” Sam sighed. He would have his work cut out for him. “Thanks for the heads up. You don’t need to stick around. I’ve got this.”

Cas nodded. “I should probably go. Hannah’s been waiting for me out in the car.” 

“That’s no way to treat a lady.”

“She’s not a lady, she’s an angel.”

Sam smiled weakly. “Right. Thanks for saving my ass back there.”

“Call if you need any further assistance.” 

Sam took a deep breath before walking down the hall to Dean’s room. After everything they’ve been through, Dean still doubted Sam. Did Dean really just think he’d leave him?

_Alright, you want to be honest, if the situation was reversed, and I was dying, you’d do the same thing._

_No Dean, I wouldn’t. Same circumstances, I wouldn’t._

Which was total bullshit. Sam might not have done it the way Dean had, but he certainly would move heaven and Earth to try to save his brother. Dean had to realize that now. Dean had been a fucking demon and Sam hadn’t given up on him.

_Oh, about how we're not supposed to be brothers? No, don't flatter yourself. I don't break that easy._

But Sam had known how to go for Dean’s jugular. Family was what mattered most to Dean—he was always Dean’s number one priority—for better or worse. And what did he do? Told Dean that he couldn’t trust him and then threw the family thing right back in his face.

Well…you always hurt the ones you love and he loved Dean with all his heart and soul all the way from heaven to Hell and back. It may sound corny, but it was true. When he thought Dean was dead again he was ready to do _anything_ to get his brother back. 

Sam stopped in front of the door to Dean’s bedroom. _This is it. Don’t fuck it up, Sammy._ He tentatively knocked on the door. “Dean.”

“It’s open.” Dean’s voice was sandpaper rough.

Sam nervously licked his lips, put on his best smile, and opened the door. “I come bearing food,” he announced, stepping into the room.

Dean, who had been sprawled out on his memory foam mattress, pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Are those onion rings that I smell?” 

“Onion rings, fries, a bacon double cheeseburger with extra onions. And some beer to wash it all down with.” Dean took the six-pack from Sam and placed it next to him on the bed. Sam put the bags on the nightstand next to Dean.

“Awesome.” Dean flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Sam wasn’t going to let it deter him. He was prepared to use his secret weapon.

Sam reached into one of the bags and pulled out a pie. “And dessert.” 

“Pie?”

“French Silk—bought the entire thing.” 

“A whole pie?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Gee Sammy, you certainly know the way to a guy’s heart.”

Sam shrugged and reached into the other bag and handed Dean his burger, fries, and onion rings. “Eat up.”

“You gonna stay or is there a salad waiting for you somewhere?” Dean twisted off the cap off the beer bottle.

Sam sat down on the chair next to Dean’s bed. “No salad.” He reached into the bag and revealed his single cheeseburger wrapped in foil. “And there’s no way in hell I’m letting you eat an entire pie. You’re not the only one who is starving.” He grabbed a beer for himself.

“Running through the bunker sure makes you work up an appetite,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full of burger. 

“I haven’t had much of an appetite since…” Sam let the last word linger, hoping Dean would just get the message without him having to come right out and say the dreaded “D” word.

Dean looked up at him with eyes so green and a bit wet. “Since I went all dark side? Became Darth Dean?” 

Sam glanced away. “Something like that. You were just gone and I had no idea what to think. I was going out of my mind.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t meant to get your panties in a bunch.”

Sam swallowed. So this was how it was going to be. Dean would brush it all off with jokes and smart remarks. God fucking forbid they actually talk to each other. Fine. Two could play that game. “Just don’t let it happen again.” 

They ate in relative silence, aside from Dean’s occasional moans, which were downright pornographic at times. Dean was careful not to make eye contact with him. Sam had about a hundred questions he wanted to ask his brother, but held his tongue. Dean obviously was in no mood to talk and forcing the issue would lead to a fight, which Sam wanted to avoid since they’d spent most of the last year bickering. 

“Suppose you wouldn’t have a fork to go with that pie?” 

Sam grinned. Pie really was one of the ways to Dean’s heart. Sam dipped his hand into the bag that once contained the pie and pulled out two plastic forks and a knife. “I do.”

“Awesome.” 

Sam passed the pie over to Dean. “I’ll let you do the honors just as long as you promise to give me at least one piece.” 

“I’ll give you two.” 

Sam polished off the rest of his beer while Dean divvied up the pie. It almost felt like old times—between hunts, hanging out in a cheap motel while they recharged their batteries. _Almost._ Sam knew that unlike some of those nights, tonight he’d end up in his own bed— _alone._

“I’m beat.” Dean licked the chocolate from his fingers. He’d done a hell of a job eating most of the pie. Sam was impressed.

“Yeah…me too,” Sam said, even though it wasn’t quite the truth. He was still pretty wired. “I’ll just…uh…take the rest of the pie and put it in the refrigerator for later.”

Dean reluctantly handed it over to him. “Don’t you go eating it as a late night snack.” 

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” Sam gathered the wrappers and napkins and then stuffed them into one of the empty bags.

Dean snorted. “You were a cub scout for like a week when you were eight.” 

“Still counts.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever, bitch,” he huffed, stretching his arms above his head. 

Sam paused in the doorway just long enough to reply. “Jerk.” 

Maybe there was hope for them after all. 

************

Sam threw away the garbage and put the pie into the refrigerator, which could almost double as an echo chamber at this point since it was nearly empty. A trip to the grocery store was in order. He’d head out right now if he knew of one near them that was open 24 hours. Staying put for the night was a good idea though. 

Just in case…

In case what? Dean somehow reverted back into a demon? Decided that he doesn’t want to be around him after all and takes off to who knows where?

What Sam needed to do was get his mind off of everything so maybe—just maybe—he could finally get some sleep. He wouldn’t be any good to Dean if he’s dead on his feet. Dean will most likely want to go out as soon as possible, which would mean…

_Oh fuck…_

Dean couldn't see the Impala in the her current condition. He’d bust a nut, even if he was the one who allowed her get that way— _especially_ if he was responsible. Dean didn’t need any more guilt.

Sam found some trash bags, and then grabbed the bottle of whiskey he bought earlier and headed out into the garage. Baby was just as filthy on the outside as she was on the inside. Her black paint splattered with mud and bird droppings, leaves poked out from underneath the hood. 

_Damn…this was going to take awhile._ He twisted off the cap and took a long pull from the bottle. 

Time to get to work. Sam started by emptying all the trash from inside the car—beer cans, whiskey bottles, fast food wrappers, empty packs of cigarettes, napkins, and—fuck—a couple of used condoms. 

“Dammit, Dean.” Sam tossed them in the trash. At least he was smart enough to practice safe sex, but it didn’t make Sam feel much better. The thought of Dean fucking anyone else made him burn with jealousy. Dean was his. 

He was thankful that Dean kept the garage stocked with the necessary items to get the Impala back to her sleek, shiny self. “Can’t take baby through the car wash, Sammy. It will ruin her paint,” Dean told him countless times. Although if he knew of a car wash that would be open in the middle of the night, he’d be tempted to break Dean’s rule because cleaning one handed really sucked. But Sam managed to polish the interior and get rid of most of the stench. Now it was time to move to the exterior. A wash and wax would have her looking like new. Yeah…he was going the extra mile with the wax job, but it was for Dean. He’d do anything to help him forget his time as a demon, even if it was something as little as getting the Impala back into fighting shape.

“Sammy, there you are!” Dean’s relieved voice startled him.

Sam spun around and dropped the cloth he’d used to polish the car. “Hey.” 

Dean took a couple of tentative steps toward him. “I was looking everywhere for you. I thought…” He bit his lip, not finishing the sentence. Sam could easily fill in the blank. Dean thought he took off—no note, no goodbye, just flat out left him.

“You thought I’d leave you?” Sam tried to keep the hurt out of his voice even though the thought of his brother thinking that he’d take off crushed him, especially after everything they’ve been though.

Dean shrugged, glancing away from Sam. He was torn between trying to shake some sense into Dean and giving Dean one hell of a hug. However, Sam did neither. He picked up the rag he dropped and composed himself before he responded.

“How could you think that?” Sam was impressed by how calm his question had come out since he felt anything but at the moment.

“Less that twenty-four hours ago I tried to kill you.” 

Sam shook his head. Of course, Dean blamed himself. It was always “on him” when things went to shit—the Dean Winchester way. Sam wouldn't allow him to wallow in the guilt, not when they’ve both fucked up many times over the years. “And I chose a demon over you, allowed you to be turned into a vampire, didn’t look for you while you were trapped in purgatory, oh and don’t forget that I ditched you and Dad to—”

“Stop it, Sammy.” Dean clenched his fists at his sides.

“Why? It’s all true.”

“You had extenuating circumstances.”

“And being a demon isn’t an extenuating circumstance?” Sam countered.

Dean’s eyes soften and he gazed at him with a pleading stare. “Sammy…”

“Dean, I’m not going anywhere. I just couldn’t sleep so—” 

Dean looked past him, brow furrowing. “You decided to wax the Impala?”

“Yeah?”

Dean’s eyes flittered to the two filled garbage bags and the rag in Sam’s hand. “Was all that from—” 

“Yeah.” Sam scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact. “I…uh…kinda wanted to get her cleaned up for you.” 

Dean wiped his hand over his mouth. “Fuck…I disrespected my baby.” He moved next to Sam and trailed his fingers along the now gleaming black finish. 

“It wasn’t you,” Sam tried to reassure him. “She understands that.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Does she?” he asked, wryly. 

Sam realized that the notion of him talking to the Impala was a bit ridiculous given how he was always the one who would playfully mock Dean’s rather intense relationship with his car. “She did. She forgives you.” Sam swallowed. “We both do,” he quickly added, meeting Dean’s eyes, which filled with tears.

Sam wasn’t expecting the hug, but in an instant Dean was wrapped around him, squeezing him tightly. His face buried in the crook of Sam’s neck. _Finally._ Sam wrapped his good arm around Dean. “I’ve got you,” he murmured as he rubbed Dean’s back. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me. Do hear that? You’re stuck with me.” 

Dean looked up at him, eyes wet and red-rimmed. “Got it.” He nervously licked his lips.

Sam’s breath hitched. Every fiber of his being screamed—no— _demanded_ that he kiss Dean. He needed him, needed him to be what they were to each other before the last trial sent it all to shit. Dean’s eyes were transfixed on Sam’s lips, but Sam knew Dean wouldn’t make the first move. Not when he was still filled with so much doubt and self-loathing. 

Sam brushed his lips against Dean’s, waiting for Dean’s response. Dean tensed for the briefest moment before returning the kiss and threading his fingers through Sam’s hair. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth. He missed this so fucking much. The kiss was slow, but oh-so-hot, but it ended a bit too quickly for Sam’s liking. 

“You and me.” Sam locked his eyes with Dean’s. 

“You and me,” Dean repeated.

Everything was far from fixed. Crowley had the First Blade, Cas was living on borrowed time, and the world was filled with countless evil sons of bitches that needed to be killed. Most importantly Dean still had the Mark of Cain, which was bound to give them all sorts of trouble. But Sam would worry about that later. Right now he would take time and enjoy this victory. Sam had his brother back—his Dean. Life was good.

For now.


End file.
